


laptops and crosswords

by judyjargon



Series: Felannie Arrow AU [1]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arrow AU, F/M, Pre-Relationship, no beta we die like Glenn, no knowledge of arrow needed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22027060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/judyjargon/pseuds/judyjargon
Summary: The first thing she notices is that his shirt is indecently tight, and all of the divots and slopes of his biceps are on perfect display. The second thing she notices is amber eyes and blue hair and—Oh, Goddess help her, she was just checking out the CEO’s son who's just returned from being missing for five years.-aka the Felannie Arrow AU nobody asked for.
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Series: Felannie Arrow AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591543
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	laptops and crosswords

His blade sings as it cuts through the air.

Byleth dodges nimbly and parries, the ringing of the metal colliding echoing throughout the open area. There is no audience today—this spar is more than training. It’s personal. 

Felix takes the miniscule opening Byleth leaves open and forces them to drop their blade, pulling the dagger from his thigh and raising it to their throat. His sword rests against the small of their back, trapping them between the two weapons, “Do you yield?”

They merely blink at him, undeterred by the razor sharp blade at their throat. A single drop of blood trickles down to their collarbone before blending into the black fabric of their uniform, “Why did you come here, Felix?”

The question shocks him enough to drop his guard, and Byleth takes the split second to twist his wrist and duck out from Felix’s grasp, picking their sword up from where it lies on the ground. He tenses, but they merely sheath it back at their side. Felix does the same.

“You’ve asked my father to allow you to return home—we’re not foolish enough to believe it’s homesickness that drives you back.”

He knows better than to lie to them. It would only sign his death warrant, “My brother was collateral damage in a war he had no part in. I’m going to avenge him.”

Byleth tilts their head in that eerie way of theirs, blue eyes staring straight at him as if waiting for a facade to crack. But there is no facade, and so it doesn’t. They nod, “Very well. Do well to remember your oath and where your loyalties lie.”

Felix swallows and nods, “I hope our paths cross again.”

A wicked smile spreads across their face, “Be careful what you wish for. You shouldn’t invite the Sothis League so readily into your life.”

He doesn’t respond, simply turns away from the Ashen Demon and leaves.

-

All she wants is caffeine. That’s it. It’s her only wish.

Annette can’t stand break room coffee, but it’s only nine in the morning and her coffee is almost done, and there’s no way her boss will let her leave to get another one so soon, even if she were to attempt to bribe him by buying him that overpriced tea he likes. 

“In other news, Felix Fraldarius, son of Rodrigue Fraldarius, CEO of Aegis Inc., has returned to Fhirdiad after mysteriously disappearing five years ago. While there is no…”

Annette, and everyone else in the Aegis break room on the 57th floor, freezes in their tracks. Probably everyone in the entire building, if she had to guess. 

Someone turns up the volume on the television as she pours creamer into her cup of bad, bad office coffee in a sorry attempt to make it drinkable. The leggy blonde on the screen continues speaking, perfectly coiffed hair bouncing with her slight movements.

“...darius had been declared missing only months following the deaths of Glenn Fraldarius, Dimitri Blaidydd, and Lambert Blaidydd, who were lost at sea when the _Areadbhar_ sank somewhere off the coast of Duscur…”

The whispers start up as the moment of disbelief passes, gathering around the little tables and sad excuse of a coffee machine to gossip. 

Didn’t they have things to do? Annette did. She had a whole… hour’s worth of work to do. At nine in the morning. Oh Goddess, what was she going to do for the rest of the work day? Probably watch cat videos, or maybe find a new macaron filling to try out tonight. Or maybe she’d try to hack into the government again. Just to keep herself entertained.

In her distractedness, she misses how Ashe sidles up next to her, holding his own cup of tea, “Where do you think he went?”

Annette squeaks, nearly dumping her coffee all over the crop cable knit sweater she had _just_ bought, “Ashe!”

A chuckle, “Sorry, Annette. I forgot how easily you scare.”

She sticks her tongue out at him and sips from her ridiculously large mug, which reads _FHIRDIAD INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY_ in bright blue print, “It’s okay, I forgive you. And, I don’t know, maybe he went backpacking across Europe and didn’t tell anyone. Isn’t that something rich people do?”

Ashe snorts inelegantly, following along as Annette begins to walk towards their adjacent cubicles, “Sure. Or maybe he rode a motorcycle across Asia, or rented a villa in the Seychelles.” 

Annette laughs, remembering her one very brief interaction she’d ever had with Felix Fraldarius. He’d been running into the building and had brushed past her, causing her to spill her entire cup of coffee across the white marble floor. He’d shouted a _Sorry!_ behind him and continued on his way. Rich people… she didn’t understand them. 

“Anyway, I have to go fix some higher up’s email. They downloaded malware and somehow _I_ got picked to get rid of it,” she bemoans, spinning on her heel and walking backwards into her cubicle, “Pray for my soul.”

“Let me guess—Lorenz didn’t know how to do it so he passed it to you.” 

The sigh she lets out is so big that she doesn’t notice when her back slams into the corner of her cubicle. Her heels seem to collapse underneath her. Stupid shoes. A shriek leaves her mouth and her free hand flies out behind her, grabbing purchase in the entryway of the cubicle next to hers, but saving the cup of coffee from its doom. “I… ah… Yes. That. I have to go now, bye Ashe!”

Annette doesn’t bother to wait for Ashe’s response before she ducks behind her desk, setting her mug down on the cute coaster Mercie had gotten her for Christmas the year before. She’s out of breath. Why is she out of breath? Damnit, maybe she does need to get back in the gym…

“Felix Fraldarius was easy on the eyes…” A pair of coworkers giggle loudly as they pass by her, reminding Annette of the recent news. Her brows furrow as she kicks off her heels underneath her desk and slips on the secret pair of fluffy slippers she keeps there, twisting her chair to face her computer. 

There’s a company wide memo in her email, droning on about the news that had just dropped and asking for discretion amongst the employees and all the other corporate loopholes they needed to close. Next, they’d be sending digital NDAs out for people who’d never once laid eyes on the CEO or his son. The thought makes her giggle.

But the email after that relates to that malware she has to get rid of. With a quick skim, it looks like it’ll be fun. Is it bad that she finds enjoyment in other people’s mistakes? Oh well. She smiles and cracks her knuckles. A long, long sip of her coffee before she shakes out her hands and gets to work. 

All thoughts of Felix Fraldarius flit from her mind as she tackles her assignment.

-

“Felix—”

“See you later, old man,” he calls behind him, lazily flicking his wrist in a disingenuous version of a wave at his father. Ingrid frowns at him as he climbs into the car, fiddling with the sleeves of the black henley that are just the _slightest_ bit too short.

Western clothing feels wrong on his skin after so long. He much prefers soft furs and rustic leather—misses the woolen interior of his gloves and the reliable buckles of his coat. But comfort is a small price to pay for what he has to do. 

When Ingrid slides into the driver’s seat, he’s not even paying attention. “Where did you say you were meeting Sylvain?”

Felix pulls his brand new phone out of his pocket and scrolls up through the indecent numbers of texts Sylvain has sent, “A cafe on the corner of Charon and Bergliez. _von Martritz_?”

Ingrid hums in concurrence and the car comes to life beneath him. It’s tempting to put up the partition, but it’d only make her suspicious, and that’s the last thing he needs.

What he does need is a base. There’s a million abandoned Aegis factories, and he can just fashion one of those into what he needs. That’s not the hard part, the hard part is finding an alias for when he’s there. So many logistics, and not enough time to put his plan into motion. 

Maybe he could refurbish one of the factories into some sort of exercise facility… It would fit with the “finding himself” narrative he’s been pushing for the past week. And it would be good for the Tailteans—something to revitalize the dying neighborhood in Fhirdiad. 

Fhirdiad oozes corruption and reeks of extortion. _That_ is what killed Glenn, not some freak boating accident on the most expensive yacht on the market. There is only one reason he’s come back home, and it’s to figure out what it was exactly that the Blaidydds had done that had gotten them and his brother killed. 

“We’re here.”

Felix snaps himself from his thoughts, though hardly jumps at Ingrid’s announcement. “You gonna open the door for me?” His tone is sarcastic and dry. Ingrid snorts.

“I’m your bodyguard, not your babysitter or personal assistant. Open your own door.”

He almost smiles and pushes open the car door, stepping out onto the sidewalk of Bergliez Avenue. The street is busy, although he shouldn’t be surprised—it’s lunchtime on a weekday in the financial sector of Fhirdiad. His eyes sweep across the storefronts until they fall onto _von Martritz_. There’s a head of bright red hair seated in a booth next to the window, and Felix braces himself.

The cafe itself is… cute. It has a homey vibe, and if he cared for sweets at all the display of pastries would look appetizing. But sugar makes his stomach turn, so he doesn’t look too long. There’s too many damn people, and it makes him jumpy. 

“Felix!”

His first instinct is to swing his fist into the throat of the person behind him. He doesn’t go with that one. Instead, his second instinct recognizes the voice and turns, an exasperated sigh escaping, “Sylvain.”

A chuckle, “Aw, don’t be like that, Fe. I missed you!” Sylvain does that stupid thing where he rocks on his heels and crosses his arms behind his head—it’s the same gesture he used to make at girls and the cops in their early twenties.

Sylvain moves to hug him, and Felix keeps his arms crossed. He laughs a little awkwardly and lays a hand on Felix’s shoulder instead, “It’s good to see you. You’ll have to tell me all about where you were.” 

It’s simpler to solemnly nod and make a false promise than to deflect, so he does, “Europe was amazing.”

The redhead continues talking, probably about some sport or another, and keeps the hand on Felix’s shoulder, guiding him towards the booth he had been sitting in.

“I see you’re not dead.”

Felix knows that voice anywhere, and it stops him dead in his tracks, “Dorothea?”

Her smile is small, but it’s certainly real. It’s a relief, given all the fake ones he’s seen her throw at the galas Sylvain and he, but mostly Sylvain, had dragged her to over the years. 

Despite his standoffishness, she still reaches up for a hug, looping her arms around his shoulders with a smile. He doesn’t even get a chance to hug her back, if he were considering it, before she backs away, “It’s good to see you, Felix. Now sit your ass down.”

Felix does what he’s told, almost smiling.

-

_Yellowhammer ingredient._

Annette doesn’t drink anything except the occasional glass of wine. How is she supposed to know what’s in a yellowhammer?

She tucks the bright blue pen she’s holding behind her ear and swivels in her chair, humming along to the Lorde song that’s softly playing through the one headphone she has in. The wheels of her chair squeak as she checks in on the program she’s running on her work computer. It’s still going. 

An email notification pings in at the bottom of the screen. It’s from the Fhirdiad Times, and the subject line reads ‘Breaking News,’ although these days, it’s as if everything is breaking news. Even so, she clicks on the notification and the article pops up. 

_VIGILANTE APPEARS IN FHIRDIAD_

Since she’s too prideful to Google the answer to her crossword, she peruses the article instead. Some psycho in a black getup is threatening corporate executives around Fhirdiad… At this point she shouldn’t be surprised. 

Her desktop dings and her program stops running—of course. She cracks her knuckles and gets ready to bunker down and fix it. A good challenge will keep her morale up, right? 

“Annette Dominic?”

The woman in question holds up one finger before quickly lowering her hand to continue typing. Everyone knows not to mess with her when she’s in her flow. Even if the damned Fhirdiad Times Sunday Crossword had stumped her. Speaking of…

“Would you happen to know an eight letter ingredient in a yellowhammer?”

There’s a pregnant pause, “Amaretto.”

Annette makes a noise of exclamation, turning back towards her crossword, and away from the person in her entryway. Everyone on the 57th floor is used to antics, so she’s not worried. Her handwriting loops as she fills in the little boxes, satisfyingly clicking the pen as she finally turns towards them, “Sorry about that, but this crossword isn’t going to…”

The first thing she notices is that his shirt is indecently tight, and all of the divots and slopes of his biceps are on perfect display. The second thing she notices is amber eyes and blue hair and—Oh, Goddess help her, she was just checking out the _CEO’s son who's just returned from being missing for five years_.

Felix Fraldarius is standing in her cubicle. _Felix Fraldarius._

He smiles, but there’s something entirely fake in it, “Hi, I’m Felix Fraldarius.”

Her hands move robotically to pull the singular earbud out of her ear. There’s a moment where her brain short circuits, and she’s not sure if she can get it back online, “Ah, yes! I know who you are, uh, Mr. Fraldarius?”

A small grimace—more real this time. She can feel the red rising in her cheeks. Oh Goddess, she’s no good at this, “Just Felix. Mr. Fraldarius is my father.”

“Yes! Your father, who I am sure is ecstatic that you’re back home after you, you know, disappeared for five years and went wherever you went which I assume was okay cause you, uh, look great—”

He quirks a brow, but stays quiet. She needs to stop talking.

“—and I’m gonna stop talking now.” 

Annette turns her chair away from him and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. She’s not sure she’s ever stuck her foot in her mouth so badly before but, well, there’s a first time for everything. She gives herself ten seconds before turning to face him again, “What can I do for you, Felix?”

There’s a tiny amused uptick to his lips, “I was out getting coffee yesterday and I spilled some on my laptop. It has important files on it, and I was hoping that you’d be able to salvage anything at all from it. My father recommended you.”

The laptop that he holds out is ancient—and riddled with bullet holes. Hardly something she can imagine belonging to the heir of a tech conglomerate, not to mention the fact that there’s no telltale stickiness of spilled coffee.

She reaches for the laptop, which he willingly gives to her, and she sets it on her desk between them, running her hands over it, “Coffee, you said?” Incredulity drips off her tone. 

The smile on his face just grows wider, “Mmhm.”

“For the sake of my job, I’m going to pretend that I believe that. Pull up a chair.”

It almost seems as if his smile becomes a bit more genuine at that, but she’s in no place to make conjectures about a person she doesn’t really know. She pops her single earbud back in, just to fill in the silence, and cracks open the bullet-riddled brick that she’s been challenged with. The screen’s in pieces, so that’s no good, but the hard drive might still be.

After opening no less than three of the drawers full of cords, she finally finds the ones that she needs and hooks the laptop up to her work desktop. Felix doesn’t stare long and instead picks up the crossword she’d been slaving over and grabs the blue pen. She sees him writing out of the corner of her eye, but this hard drive is far more interesting. 

It takes some creative finagling and slamming her hand on the laptop’s keyboard at least twice before she finally gets into the hard drive. A little noise of victory escapes her, though it’s overtaken by a blush as soon as she remembers who she’s in the company of. 

“Well, it looks like most of them are corrupted, but this one is alright.”

Her mouse glides over the file and clicks it open, pulling up a PDF of blueprints. 

Something changes in the way he holds himself as soon as it comes open—his shoulders straighten and his eyes harden. The fake smile drops off his face and his lips purse. Not that she’s staring at his lips. She has no intentions of tangling herself up with _Felix Fraldarius_ , but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have eyes.

“What building is this?”

She’s brought back to reality, “The auction house. It’s where the auction for Mr. Lonato’s estate is happening. He had no heirs or will, so they’re just auctioning off all of his shares. Your father, ah, Mr. Fraldarius, is apparently going to be there, accordingly to word of mouth, at least.” Annette squints at him, noting the slight furrow of his brow, “Didn’t you say that this was your laptop?”

That fake smile reappears in an instant as Felix stands, brushing invisible lint off of his jeans, “Yes, it is. Thank you for your time, Ms. Dominic. I appreciate it.” 

Annette furrows her brow in confusion at the sudden dismissal and the formality as she disconnects the laptop and hands it back to him. What a strange man, “It’s just Annette. And you’re welcome?”

With that, he’s gone, and she finally gets a chance to look at the crossword again. He’d only filled in one of them. 

_Legendary weapons artisan._

_Zoltan_ is written into the boxes in surprisingly neat handwriting. Strange, she never would’ve pegged heirs to tech conglomerates as history buffs, especially ancient Fodlan history. 

Something, well, a lot of things, bug her about Felix Fraldarius. There’s something not quite right to him, and the mystery itches at her. She hates mysteries.

Even so, she shoves him into the corner of her mind and focuses back in. She’s still at work, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> catch me on tumblr @feyreofthewildfire  
> also catch me lurking on both the felannie and sylvix servers cause i live in multi-shipping hell


End file.
